


the aftermath

by skrsgards



Series: Bill Skargård Works [9]
Category: Bill Skarskård
Genre: Angst, Bill has PTSD, Sexual Content, Soldier Bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skrsgards/pseuds/skrsgards
Summary: in which you take the pieces of a broken man and begin to put him back together again





	the aftermath

The night was too quiet. Deafeningly so. 

He could not sleep. Hadn’t been able to do so properly for months now, his brain in too much of a jumble to allow him the rest he so desperately needed. He sat in the old wicker chair in the corner of the bedroom, right near the window, with a cigarette perched between his fingers and eyes that stared off into space. 

Those same eyes drifted across the room, where he then gazed upon the woman asleep in his bed. You, seemingly at peace and completely oblivious to the horror that was the world, if only for a few hours. But in reality, he knew that you were not at peace, nor had you been for a while now, and it was all because of him. 

He’d left you alone. Despite the fact that he was there, finally home with you after being gone for so long, he still wasn’t all there. He’d come back as only half a man, something inside of him having broken off during his time away. He was not the same man he once was, and in the depths of his being, he knew that he would never be able to be that man again. 

And that was what terrified him the most. 

He reflected back on how things used to be, before he was shipped off to fight in that godawful war. You’d both been so happy, newlyweds still in their honeymoon phase. You were dreamers, planning out your future, talking of what life would be like once you settled down and had little ones of your own. He’d promised to build you a big house in the country, room for your family to grow. 

When he was enlisted, your lives had to be put on hold. He’d left with the promise that when he came back, you would do all those things you’d dreamed of. But now here he was, seated in a rickety old chair in the corner of the grungy, one room apartment you’d been living in since before the war, on his fourth cigarette of the night, knowing that those dreams were no more. 

He’d tucked them away in drawer, locking them up tight somewhere in his brain. While there were times he would take them out and admire him, as if they were a piece of pretty lace from your sewing drawer, he would end up putting them back all over again.

The old Bill would have been in bed with his wife, holding her sleeping form to his chest, or maybe making love to her. But he had not done either of those things in a long time. The last time he’d touched you in the ways you deserved to be touched was the night he’d come back. It was a sweet reunion, and the only time he’d been truly happy since his return. 

He was not happy now. When he looked at you, he only saw someone who deserved better. He couldn’t sleep next to you anymore. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he always woke up sobbing due to the nightmares that ebbed through his brain. He couldn’t stomach them anymore, which was why he’d taken to not sleeping. 

Every night, he’d lay in bed with you until you fell asleep, and then he would get up, using coffee and cigarettes to get him through. Sometimes, during the day, he would fall asleep. But he would always jar awake at any loud sound. There were times, coming out of a sleepy stupor, when he forgot where he was. It was especially bad when he’d first returned. 

As of late, those instances had grown few and far between. But the nightmares were still there. The memories of watching his men die, seeing people sustain the most gruesome injuries imaginable, seeing the hate and wicked rage in the eyes of his enemy, all still burned through his mind. He would never forget. 

“Bill?” 

The soft, sleepy voice pulled him back to reality that night. He stubbed out his cigarette, leaning forward in his seat. “What is it?” 

He watched as you hurried to climb out of bed, your bare feet padding against the cold hardwood as you approached him. “Come back to bed.”

But he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

You stood before him, hands clasped in front of you. “Please?”

He reached for your hands, attempting a smile. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

Your heart began to sink in your chest. “You said that last night. And the night before that. And that night before that.”

His shoulders fell, a deep, exhausted sigh slipping past his lips, deflating him. “I’m just not ready yet.”

Your eyes filled with tears then. You couldn’t do this anymore. It was wearing you thin, being so far away from your husband. Despite the fact that he was in the room with you, he still seemed farther away right then than he ever had when he was overseas. 

You spoke the words that you’d been dreading for weeks now. “Have you grown tired of me?” 

Bill looked up at you with wide eyes. “No, of course I haven’t grown tired of you, my love. I could never.”

You pulled your hands out of his. You’d been walking on eggshells the last few months, it seemed. You didn’t know what to say to him, how to communicate the fact that you felt neglected. You understood the fact that he was dealing with serious trauma and battling his own demons, but you felt locked out, like you were rooms apart, banging on a door for his attention, but never receiving it. 

“You no longer sleep in the same bed with me. You don’t kiss me, you don’t touch me. You don’t talk to me. Out of everything, I miss you talking to me. I feel so alone, Bill.” 

When he tried to swallow, it felt as if there was cotton in his mouth. He’d never heard you sound so hurt before. “You deserve better,” he whispered. 

You vigorously shook your head, kneeling down in front of him and looking up with eyes filled with the fire of your emotions. “I don’t want better. I want you.”

It was his turn to start crying then, his walls crumbling away as he fell to pieces before you. His large hands cupped your beautiful face. He was trembling now, you could feel it. “I can’t even give you all of me. I’m…I’m not the same man I was before the war.”

“No man that came back from that is the same. The war took a bite out of every last one of us. Soldier and civilian. You can’t expect to come away unscathed from that sort of thing.”

Bill closed his eyes. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But none of this excuses the fact that you are closing out your wife. I love you, I want to help you through this. But you won’t let me! You think I’m asleep in bed when you get up to sit in your little corner and smoke yourself to death as you wallow in self pity? I wake up the minute you slip out of the covers, and I wait for you to come back, but you never do.”

“Just…give me time.”

“You listen to me, Bill Skarsgård. I know you went through hell, and I don’t undermine that. But there are millions of men who have it so much worse than you. There are men missing limbs, men who are paralyzed, men who are disfigured so badly they aren’t even recognizable. There are men who died out there, who left behind wives and children. And you? You’re fortunate enough to have been able to come home, uninjured and safe. Do you not realize how lucky you are?!”

“I-” he began but you barreled on without pause. 

“Look at Danny and Lucille. She left him because she couldn’t handle how the war changed him. Or how about Alice and John? All they do is argue nowadays. All of our friends are barely keeping their marriages together. I’d say you’re pretty damn fortunate, because you get to come home to a wife that still loves you and is willing to fight for our marriage.”

Suddenly, Bill was standing up, stepping right past you. With a huff, you followed suit, whirling around in order to follow him with your eyes. He rubbed his face, letting out a groan. “I’m sorry,” were the next words out of his mouth, “you’re right, there are men that have it worse than me. But sometimes I think…the mental scars are worse than the physical ones. I can’t get it all out of my head. It’s like my brain is one of those screens at the pictures, playing the same thing over and over again.”

“You have to let it run its course,” you softly spoke. 

Bill turned to you then, a faraway look in his eyes. “This will never go away.”

“No, but it will get easier to bear.”

“How? How can I bear this?”

You stepped up to him then, looking right into his eyes. “Let me help you. I want to help you. Whether you need me to just hold you after a bad dream, or sit up with you all night, or anything else in the world. I will do it, because I want to help you. I cannot endure watching you fall apart anymore. It’s too much for me. Let me hold your hand through this time. It’s what we promised on our wedding day, isn’t it? For better or worse.”

“You’re…you’re right,” he whispered. You’d made a vow to each other. He had to make good on that promise. “I’m so sorry for doing this to you my love, for closing you out. It’s just…hard for me. I don’t know if I can talk about it.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to talk about it all at once. I just need to know you’re with me, that you’ll let me help you through this, no matter what it takes.”

Bill’s shoulders sagged, and without warning, he was falling against you, his arms engulfing you. You, in turn, wrapped your own arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. You melted into one another, sharing a moment so tender. 

“Come back to me, Bill,” you whispered.

When he pulled back, there were fresh tears in his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything. You intertwined your fingers with his, and guided him to the bed that he had not slept in in weeks. He climbed in with you, a deep sigh leaving him as he leaned back against the headboard.

You settled beside him, gazing up at his face, the way he let his eyes flutter shut and his mouth part. You placed your hand against his chest, feeling the way his breathing began to slow, his muscles relaxing as he let himself be comforted by you. He had not let you do this in so long, it almost felt foreign, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. 

When he opened his eyes, he found you looking up at him. With a soft smile, you reached up, running a hand through his close cut hair. Even in his state, it was still neat, just like always. That was one thing the war hadn’t changed about him. He was still neat and put together. Even when he was in shambles on the inside.

“I love you, Bill,” you spoke. That was one thing you were sure of. You loved him more than anything or anyone else on earth. 

At your words, Bill’s lips curved into a smile, a true, genuine one. His own hand came to cup your face. “And I love you.” His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek a moment before he slowly leaned forward, eyes locking with yours, as if asking permission before he joined your lips. 

Gentle and sweet, the most delicate kiss he’d ever given. He placed his other hand against your cheek, pulling you closer, needing you closer. His chest ached, his fingers and toes tingled. He was suddenly desperate, realizing that closing himself off from you had been such a mistake. How could he have so freely denied you physical and emotional contact? How could he ever do this to you? 

His chest swelled with emotion. He’d left you alone. And he was sorry, so terribly sorry. “My love…” he whispered, once you’d parted. His voice was unsteady. He was afraid if he spoke any louder he would break down. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assured him. 

“How can I ever show you how sorry I am?”

“Kiss me again.” That night, you needed more than just his words. You needed him, in the most intimate ways imaginable, raw and emotional.

His lips found yours, and he held you to him again, offering a kiss so deep, it left your head spinning and your chest burning. You gripped his shirt until your knuckles went white, using him as your lifeline. 

“Please,” you keened, “please touch me again, love me again.”

He looked at you, those green eyes stripping away every layer until he was looking into your soul. In that very moment, he knew that he needed this as much as you did. Maybe joining together as one would make him feel whole. So, he moved to gently press you to the mattress, lithe frame hovering over you in seconds. He let all distractions slip from his mind, and focused only on what was happening in the here and now. 

He brushed his fingers through your hair before he kissed you yet again. “I’ve neglected you, and I’m sorry.” He whispered the words in your ear before making his descend, soft, rosy lips feathering sweet kisses down your jaw, to your neck. He left a kiss against your throat before his nimble fingers untied the collar of your nightie. His lips found their way to your collarbone, right to your breastbone.

He parted your legs, kneeling between them before he reached for the hem of your nightgown, pulling it up and over you, exposing your body to him. You were still just as beautiful as he remembered, and he felt a pang run through his chest. He desired you, and only you. 

You stretched your arms out, tugging at his shirt, wanting it off. he obliged, letting the fabric slip off the side of the bed as he moved to his pants, hardly able to get them off quick enough. And then he was hovering over you again, gazing at you with so much adoration you could hardly bear it. 

He skimmed a gentle hand down the side of your face, past your shoulder, along the side of your body and right between your legs. “You want this, right?” He inquired. He’d never asked this of you. He never had to, you’d always gladly accepted him, and if not, he always respected when you said no. Even so, for some reason, this night was different. 

You smiled. “Of course I want this, Bill. I’ll always want you.”

And then his fingers were parting you, opening you up to him before he slipped in two digits. The sound that came out of your mouth caused his heart to lurch in his chest. He needed this, he was more than sure now. 

He was reacquainted with the feeling of you. Warm, wet, deep. He watched your face, the way your brows creased, lips parted, chest heaved. You were already soaked, and he knew that he had to be inside you. He removed his fingers from you before he pulled you closer, situating you comfortably. He was going to adorn you with every ounce of love and passion he had to give. 

He rejoined your lips, right before he lined himself up with you, pushing into you in one fluid movement. He had you gasping, grabbing ahold of him at the sudden fullness. He paused, allowing you to adjust to the feeling, knowing it had been so long since you’d been joined this way.

“Move,” you managed to hiss. 

Placing his hands at ether side of your head, he began a building rhythm of slow, gentle thrusts. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, wanting him closer, though he was already close as could be. You couldn’t remember a time when it had felt this wonderful. 

Not even the night after he’d returned home had been this passionate, this deep and raw and beautiful. You buried your face against his neck, allowing him to completely engulf you. He whispered sweet affirmations and reminders of his love in your ear. He praised you, told you he was proud of you. He made you feel like the queen you were. 

His movements gradually become more intense, a little less gentle. He went deeper than you ever thought possible, brushing up against all those wonderful spots inside you. It wasn’t long before he had you trembling, hardly able to contain the whimpers and gasps that clawed their way out of your throat. 

He could feel your muscles contract and flutter around him with each thrust, which sent shockwaves of sweet pleasure through his veins. Bill held you to him now, arm wrapped around you. He placed his forehead against yours, and he couldn’t be bothered to suppress the whine that came from him. 

“I love you more than anything,” he breathed. You knew he did. 

“Bill…harder,” you whispered to him, needing more to push you over the edge. You were so warm and wet and full, but you wanted just a little more stimulation. And Bill delivered. 

He was still gentle with you, though his thrusts were deeper and just a little more abrupt. He had you clawing at his back, desperately calling out his name, unable to fathom the warm buzz that had begun to seep through you. 

Bill brought his hand down between your legs, fingers catching your clit. Your legs began to quiver then, an almost unbearable warmth spreading through your entire body. You let it overcome you, embracing every feeling, thought and emotion. You wanted to stay in this moment. 

You had turned into a mess. Gasping, trembling, skin growing hot to the touch. You let Bill completely ruin you in the most wonderful ways imaginable. This was so important to you, having him wrapped around you, safe and sound. He was all you’d ever needed, all you would ever need. 

The closer you got to your release, tears began to spring to your eyes. You reached up to grab Bill’s face, wanting your lips together. “B-Bill, I-”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “let go whenever you need to.” He was so loving, so attentive. It only worsened the tears, and soon you were unabashedly sobbing into his skin, letting everything overcome you at once. Your body was so close to tipping over that peak, you were hardly able to tolerate it. 

Fire roared to life in your abdomen, and paired with his administrations to your nub of nerves, and him inside you, you knew that you were not going to last much longer. You let the sensations ravish you, washing through you and replacing all coherent thought.

When it all grew too unbearable, you clutched onto Bill so tightly you knew there would be bruises, but you were hardly thinking about that at all. 

When your relief did finally come, you found yourself shouting Bill’s very name into the night, overcome with the most wonderful release you had ever experienced. There were tears streaming down your face as you finished, and all you could to was lay there and soak it all in. 

It didn’t take Bill much longer to follow after, and he cried into your neck as he let go, leaving a part of himself within you. He kissed your skin repeatedly as you both settled down, and that night, with the moon illuminating his face and sweat shimmering on his brow, he spoke softly and surely. “I came back to you.” 

The journey before you would not be an easy one, and you knew it wouldn’t. But you knew that Bill was willing to heal for you, willing to put himself together because you’d asked him to. And that was all the consolation you needed.


End file.
